


you always knew how to push my buttons

by okteviaskaikru



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cool, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Makes Sense, Neighbors, One Shot, Pining, Trapped In Elevator, a little bit, also, and also cage is their shitty cheap landlord, as in there's barely a joint, clarke looks hot and bellamy is mad about it, just blame murphy ok, mild drug use, other main characters are mentioned, the usuals - Freeform, there is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 13:16:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15631428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okteviaskaikru/pseuds/okteviaskaikru
Summary: “This is your fault!” Clarke Griffin announced pacing back and forth on the tiny tiled floor, her heels clicking and filling the elevator with a firm echo.“Woah, how is this my fault?”Clarke stopped and placed her hands on her hips. “If it wasn’t for your stupid comments and blatantly wasting my time, we wouldn’t be here right now! God, you’re so immature,” she shouted“Oh please, I’m not immature,” he narrowed his eyes putting air quotes around the word. His gesture was shadowed by the tiny emergency light that kicked in after the power went out and the fluorescent ones were killed.or, neighbors and enemies, Clarke and Bellamy, get stuck in their apartment building’s elevator when the power goes out, causing Clarke to miss her date. After the lights go out, the truth comes out.





	you always knew how to push my buttons

“This is your fault!” Clarke Griffin announced pacing back and forth on the tiny tiled floor, her heels clicking and filling the elevator with a firm echo.

“Woah, how is this my fault?”

Clarke stopped and placed her hands on her hips. "If it wasn’t for your stupid comments and blatantly wasting my time, we wouldn’t be here right now! God, you’re so immature,” she shouted

“Oh please, I’m not immature,” he narrowed his eyes and put air quotes around the word. His gesture was shadowed by the tiny emergency light that kicked in after the power went out and the fluorescent ones were killed.

“Bellamy, you laughed for a solid five minutes after hiding my shoes.”

He snorted.

“Well,” he started. “Maybe if you didn’t have five different outfits to wear and need Octavia’s help you wouldn’t have been in our in apartment in the first place and neither would your shoes, hence I wouldn't have hidden them. So maybe this is your fault all along and you’re just projecting."

Clarke pressed her hand to her forehead and huffed. “God, you’re infuriating.”

\--

_Earlier that evening, Clarke had banged so hard on the apartment door of Bellamy and Octavia Blake to the point where it sounded like the beginnings of a police raid._

_“Coming! Coming!” Bellamy yelled, overwhelmed._

_When he opened the door, Clarke nearly fell through it. She was carrying a pile of clothing: some red, some black, a tank top that had silver sequins covering the entire garment. Her hair was curled except for a pined piece in the front, which she seemingly forgot to take out._

_“Tav! I need you desperately,” she yelled, barreling past Bellamy and absentmindedly kicking off her heels in the corner near the fridge._

_Bellamy put out his hands, regaining his footing. “Woah, Princess what’s the rush?”_

_“God dammit, Bellamy! Stop calling me that!”_

_“Not going to happen. What’s with all of this?” He walked over to her and plucked some lacy top from the pile of the clothing in her arms._

_“Bellamy, cut the shit. I’m going on a date tonight.”_

_“With that Gil guy you met in the bar?” Bellamy asked. His question sounding like an accusation. “I don’t like him.”_

_“His name is Finn and it’s irrelevant that you don't like him because your opinion doesn't matter."_

_“Well, if you plan on wearing this, you’re going to look ridiculous. Also, there will be a proverbial sign over your head saying ‘Ready to fuck.’”_

_Bellamy thought he saw a hurt of look cross her face, but before he could decide, she entered into a scowl and narrowed her eyes. He knew he took a step to far, but was to stubborn to address it._

_Clarke ignored it. “Where’s your sister?”_

_“In her room.”_

_She reached an arm out and snatched the garment from him, then took off before he could finish the sentence._

_He sighed and made his way to the fridge to grab a beer. That’s when he saw her black heels lying on the ground like victims of war. A slight grin grew on his face as he abandoned his drink to go grab the shoes._

\--

Clarke continued to pace, her steps becoming louder by the second.

“That’s not going to magically make the power go back on.” Bellamy sighed, exasperated.

“What isn’t?” She stopped and placed her hands on her hips.

“Back and forth. Back and forth,” Bellamy said, motioning his finger.

She huffed before sitting down on the floor, her legs sprawled out in front of her.

Bellamy followed suit and sat down at the opposite side of the elevator. “You know we might need to make a pee corner.”

“Ugh, Bellamy. That’s gross,” Clarke said, scrunching her face. A moment of panic crossed her. “Please don’t tell me you have to go…”

He laughed and waved his hands in front of him. “No. Strictly hypothetical.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m glad you’re so amused right now.”

He said nothing, but smirked at her, which said it all.

Clarke rolled her eyes and moaned. “God, I wish I brought my flask.”

Bellamy cocked his head. “We’re going to have to find some other way to get through this until the lights come back on. Unfortunately, alcohol is not a viable solution."

\--

_Bellamy was sitting on the couch when Clarke emerged from Octavia’s room. He looked over at her in the kitchen, careful not to move his head. She was wearing the black lace top with dark jeans, the clip was out of her hair now and the piece once pinned cascaded down, framing her face. She looked amazing. He now really, really regretted the earlier comment._

_Clarke began to pull out the countertop chairs and the ones at the table, clearly looking for her shoes._

_“O! Did I leave my heels in your room?” Clarke yelled._

_He heard movement in Octavia’s bedroom. “Nope! Not here, must be by the door!” She yelled back._

_Bellamy couldn’t help bursting into laughter._

_“Bellamy,” Clarke began in what sounded like a calm voice, but was laced with malice. “Where the fuck are my shoes?”_

_“Did the Princess lose her glass slippers?”_

_“Give me back my damn shoes!” She walked over to their storage closet before rummaging through it, then she went to the one where the washer and dryer were located and checked there, and finally after going through every drawer and cabinet, she took off to his room, locking the door behind her._

_“Oh shit,” Bellamy muttered before jumping up and running down the hall. He banged on the door. “Clarke!”_

_He heard clashing and crashing coming from inside the room in tandem with Clarke cursing under her breath._

_“Clarke! Open the door!”_

_“Tell me where my shoes are!”_

_He leaned his head against the door, still with subtle laughter despite his room being used in a hostage situation. “Under the bed,” he sighed, defeated._

_The locked clicked a minute later and Clarke appeared, her shoes now strapped on to her feet._

_She narrowed her eyes. “I hate you.” She grabbed her bag from the table and left the apartment with a slam of the door._

_Bellamy felt a tinge of guilt, released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and slipped on his sneakers, ready to chase her out and apologize._

\--

“Okay,” Clarke sighed. “You ready?”

“Yes, let’s go.”  


“Rock, paper, scissors, sh—,” Bellamy was cut off with the showing of Clarke’s hand held out in scissors. Confusion crossed his face.

She rolled her eyes. “It goes ‘Rock, paper, scissors.’ Bellamy, you shoot on scissors.”

He wheezed. “Pretty sure that’s never been a thing.”

“It’s more efficient.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Of course, it is.”

Before the round of childhood games that they had begun to play, Clarke had been busy in her cross body bag, looking for something to occupy the time and the unwanted company. Clarke had pulled out a gum packet with one piece left, a lipstick, the plastic wrapping from the nearly empty gum packet, a lighter for the stress pack of cigarettes stashed in her spice cabinet, and her phone and wallet. When she went to dump the bag on the floor, an accidental condom came out with the rest of the things. Clarke bloomed a harsh blush before grabbing at it quickly and stuffing it back in the bag.

Bellamy smirked. “Princess, if this is your weird way of hitting on me, it would only work a little.”

Clarke flipped him off before stuffing the rest of the contents back in.

“Okay,” she started. “I got nothing. Your turn.”

Bellamy sat up on his knees and dug through his pockets. He pulled out his phone in one of his front pockets before putting his hand into the back right. He burst into laughter at whatever was in there.

“What?” Clarke asked, slightly amused, slightly concerned.

“Look what Murphy asked me to hold on to last night that I forgot about.” Bellamy pulled out a tightly wrapped, half-smoked joint into between his thumb and index finger. It was slightly bent from his pocket. “This could definitely pass the time.”

She sighed and tipped her head. “And you really think that’s a good idea. In a small elevator, stuck, with the power out. I’m sure that smoke alarm up there still works. And, I still want to make it to this date, not high off my ass.”

“Well,” he declared, placing his hands firmly on the ground in front of him. “There’s only a few hits left. Barely any smoke, we’ll blow it in your purse or something, and because of the so little weed, you’ll be nice and sober for your date.” His tone was initially light, but landed too harshly on the word date and he hoped she didn’t notice.

“The smoke,” Clarke began questionably, repeating back to Bellamy the plan he just made, maybe to hear how ridiculous it sounded, “into my bag. This guy is gonna think I’m a pothead.”

He laughed. “There are worse things he could think of you.”

“Thanks, Bell! That’s reassuring!” Clarke clapped her hands in sarcasm.

“Are you in or what?”

She huffed, conceded. “Fine, hand it over. I’m the one with the lighter.”

The irritation and arguments that had once filled the space gradually turned to silly games after the couple of hits they both got from the remainder of the joint. They did end up blowing the smoke into Clarke’s bag with Bellamy’s hoodie over their heads.

“Next party, we should have a Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament with like a bracket and everything."

Bellamy laughed. “Okay, princess. As long as you’re organizing it.”

This time, the nickname didn’t bother her. His tone was lighter, warmer, different from before or anytime he had said it really.

They continued on. Best two out of three.

“Now what?” Clarke asked. “I’m already bored again and I’ve beaten you in all three rounds.”

\--

_“Wait, Clarke. I'm sorry.” His words echoed through the hallway as she stomped down to the elevator. “I shouldn't have done that.”That time, the words were simply a whisper. A shot in the dark. A hope that she both heard and didn't hear the words. Before he knew it, the elevator arrived._

_He took off running, throwing his hand in between the doors._

_“Are you kidding me?” Clarke screamed at him._

_He got into the elevator and the doors closed behind him. He walked towards her in stride. Her back was against the wall and he placed his hands on the extended railing, surrounding her with his arms._

_“I shouldn’t have done that and I shouldn’t have said what I said, its just…,” he paused. His face nearly inches from hers._

_Clarke gasped, desperate for a breath. “Just what?”_

_The elevator made a sharp noise, startling them both before coming to an abrupt stop in the shaft. Then the lights were out. Neither of them ever understood what screaming silence was until the few seconds before the emergency light kicked in. Clarke maneuvered herself out from underneath him and rapidly hit the call button on the panel._

_“Come on, dammit, come on,” she muttered under her breath._

_“Clarke, stop. This building is run by the cheapest man alive. I’m sure the back up generator doesn’t support the elevator line, that including the call button. I’m surprised there is even an emergency light.”_

_“Fuck you, Cage Wallace!” Clarke announced, flipping off the security camera in the corner of the room._

_“I doubt the cameras work either,” Bellamy muttered under his breath._

_Clarke placed a hand to her forehead. “This is your fault!”_

\--

“You look good, by the way,” Bellamy said before throwing Clarke back the tiny ball they made with her last piece of gum and the wrappers compiled from her purse. “I shouldn’t have made that shitty comment, earlier.”

Clarke looked and felt a little shocked before easing into normalcy. “So, you were just being a dick to be a dick?”

“Yeah,” he looked at the floor and laughed. “Guess I was. And, maybe I was a little jealous.”

She sighed. “I did purposely go with this top, just to be spiteful.”

They both laughed.

His voice sounded warm and silky. “I’m glad you did.”

“Wait,” Clarke paused. “Why were you jealous?”

Bellamy stayed silent, regretting his words for a second time that night.

“Of me?” Clarke put a finger to her chest. She took a heavy breath and looked down. “Of him.” This time her words weren’t a question. “Then why do you hate me so much?” Clarke asked softly.

“Oh, come on.” Bellamy titled his head.

“What? That’s a completely valid question.”

He sighed. “Maybe,” he started before taking a long pause, “all these years, I’ve just been that idiot kid on the playground pulling at your pigtails.”

Clarke swallowed hard. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I think we both know that I’ve never hated you.” Bellamy’s voice was barely audible.

The elevator went silent. Clarke gave him a half grin and he smoothed the curl out of her face that had been bothering him the entire night. Bellamy left his hand resting at her chin and neither of them moved or said anything. Just eyes locked with eyes.

Suddenly, the elevator began to make a clicking sound and the roar of machines turned back on. The harsh artificial lights and the harsh view of reality flooded back into the elevator, taking away any last bit of their buzz. Bellamy quickly pulled his hand away and Clarke cleared her throat before facing forward.

“I guess we’re free now.” Bellamy got up from the floor and offered his hand to Clarke not knowing where they now stood.

"I'm fine. I can handle myself.”

She fixed her top and attempted to remain normal and casual as if the elevator never stopped and they were only strangers waiting for their floor.

The doors opened back on the 5th floor where this now catastrophe started. Clarke began to move out the doors.

"Aren't you going on your date with Fish?” Bellamy followed behind.

She turned back towards him. ”Eh, it's too late now. Already texted and cancelled, but being stuck in an elevator seems like a fake excuse. So, not sure he’ll want to try this again.” She didn’t correct him this time.

“Sorry,” Bellamy said sincerely.

“It’s fine. Wasn’t that set on it anyways.”

She turned forward and began to make her way back to her own apartment.

“Hey, Clarke. Wait.”

Bellamy entered into a slight, purposeful jog to catch up to her.

She turned around. She had a warm smile on her face. A look so different from the one directed at him three hours ago. “Yeah—,” she began, but was interrupted by Bellamy wrapping his hands around her face and pulling her into the most deliberate kiss of his life.

She froze, eyes open, hands by her sides, but then relaxed into it, shut her eyes and brought her hands to his waist. He kissed her harder, gently bitting on her lower lip.

She swiped her tongue in his mouth and Bellamy sighed into her. Without realizing, they had moved backwards and Bellamy pushed Clarke to the wall. Her hands found their way under his t-shirt and she hooked a leg around his.

“What the hell is all the noise?” Octavia emerged from the apartment to find Bellamy and Clarke, fighting only three hours earlier, pressed up against a wall, making out, in the beginnings of undressing with no concern other than each other.

Bellamy froze in panic and they both turned their heads to face Octavia at the same time, unable to speak.

“What. The. Fuck?” Octavia gasped.

“Um, O, we can explain,” Bellamy began taking a step away from Clarke and putting his hands out. Clarke pulled down the black lace, smoothed her hair, cleared her throat, and just stared at the floor.

“YES!” Octavia practically squealed. “The whole gang owes me $20 bucks each! I knew your bickering was just some weird foreplay situation.”

Bellamy and Clarke still stood frozen. Octavia turned around, ran inside to grab her jacket and shoes. “I’m going to Monty and Jasper’s place oh my god I gotta call Raven shit we need Miller there too,” she spit out all the words in an insane run-on sentence that sounded like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious on acid. She grabbed her phone from her pocket. “I’m calling Lincoln.”

She skipped over to the pair and pecked them both on the cheek. “Well, Bellarke, the apartment is all yours. Have fun you crazy kids.” She winked and ran to the stairs. Before leaving, she pointed at the elevator. “Yeah, I’m not trusting that damned thing.”

Bellamy and Clarke stared at each other, mouths ajar. And then there was just incessant laughter. Bellamy pressed his head against the wall near the junction of Clarke’s neck.

“Maybe we’re still high,” Clarke said, searching for an alternate explanation besides actually feeling something real for each other.

“I’m not,” Bellamy said. “Are you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She paused for a moment. “Maybe, we should talk about this?”

“Yeah, good plan.” He nodded.

Clarke reached up and grabbed his face and continued kissing where they left off before being rudely interrupted by their apparent fan club.

“I’m liking this conversation,” he whispered against her mouth.

She bumped him on the shoulder. “Seriously, we should.”

“Do you want to come in?” He nodded towards the door.

She beamed. “I’d love that, mostly because I really have to pee.” Clarke followed closely him. “You’re still wrong about Rock Paper Scissors, just so you know.”

He pushed open the door and pressed a soft kiss against her mouth. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She laughed and locked hands with him, giving his palm a squeeze. “I’m gonna regret this aren’t I?”

“I guess only time will tell,” he said before tugging her into the apartment and slamming the door behind them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, lol, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just a slut for a good trapped in an elevator trope with some mild wall making out. ITS FINE. BE GENTLE WITH ME. (also i've only proofread this, so excuse any typos/mistakes. I think I got them all?? not sure)
> 
> Tumblr: cgriffinblake


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